Beauty In The Breakdown
by angel-junkie
Summary: AU ending for A Deadly Game. It's kinda a song fic, but not.


**TITLE: **Beauty In The Breakdown

**SUMMARY:** AU ending for _A Deadly Game_. It's kinda a song fic, but not.

**RATING: **M, for language.

**DISCLAIMER: **I don't own _Castle_ or the song.

**A/N: **I'm always hesitant to throw my hat into a finale ring, but I just couldn't help myself this time. This was originally written for something else I'm working on, but by the end of it, I decided it had to go on its own.

XXX

"_And w__hen this is over and done with and we walk away there should be no doubts"_

She watched him walk away from her, his arm slung low around Gina's waist, and could almost – _almost _– feel her heart shattering into a million little pieces. She wondered, not for the first time, if he had been sent to her, simply to torture her.

Her beer bottle rested on her desk, just out of reach, and she looked down at it, idly wondering what the captain would do if she flung it across the room at his retreating back. As she stared at the glass, it blurred over and she knew she was on the verge of tears.

Fuck.

"Kate?" a soft voice came from her left.

She shook her head, hoping Lanie would understand and leave her alone.

"Kate." the voice was softer now, but somehow louder, and she realised Lanie was standing right next to her. She could feel the other woman's hand hovering near her shoulder, unsure of whether she should offer her friend comfort, or simply leave her be.

Beckett turned her back and hung her head, squeezing her eyes shut tight, willing the tears that threatened to spill back into the ducts. She heard the break room door open, a hushed conversation, and quickly retreating footsteps, and figured Lanie had just sent the boys on a mission. Possibly a mission to kill. This wouldn't be bad, except for all the damn paperwork that he wouldn't be there to sit and stare at her through.

Fuck him.

_Wanting to do that got you into this mess._ Muttered a nasty voice in her head and she sighed, sinking into her chair. She rested her elbows on her desk and dropped her head into her hands, the heels of them pressing almost painfully into her eyes.

How could she have been so stupid as to think that after all of his innuendo and stories would ever amount to something resembling actual feelings? Oh, she knew he cared for her, she wasn't stupid. The events surrounding her Nikki Heat stalker proved that. She would even go as far as to say him looking into her mother's murder proved the same thing.

But as she sat there, the words of an old Janis Joplin song burning across her mind, she wondered why it took her so damn long to wake up and see it. Why had it taken Esposito's frank words to make her understand? Why couldn't she have figured it all out before Demming? Before Ellie Monroe? Before he decided that, instead of taking _her_ to the Hamptons, he takes ex-wife-number-two for a weekend of fun in the sun.

She could feel the familiar burning in the back of her throat as she still waged war with tears that wanted to leave streaks down her face. The wood of her desktop blurred and swam with her unshed tears, but there was not a hope in hell she was going to break down there. Though, she didn't think she could move. She didn't think her legs were yet capable of holding her weight, let alone walking.

She could still sense Lanie's presence near her, to her left, and she figured she had taken up residence in _his_ seat. And that was fine by her. She knew Lanie wouldn't push her into speaking until she was either really drunk, or, well, really drunk. It just wouldn't happen. She knew Lanie wouldn't force her to move until she was absolutely positive she couldn't sit there any longer. And she knew, in her scattered pieces of heart, that she would never be able to look at the chair the same way again.

She heard the elevator ding, and low, male, voices float over. She dare not look up; for fear of her carefully held tears would spill over. She heard Lanie shift in the seat, and almost looked up, her curiosity nearly brimming over, like her tears. But she tensed her shoulders and forced her head to stay exactly where it was.

She smelt him before she knew he was there. She would recognise that smell anywhere, and from any distance. She hated how it lingered in the air, like some unseen force was playing a nasty trick on her. She heard the chair creak as someone sank into it slowly, and wondered when Lanie had moved out of it.

"Kate?" his voice was husky and low and laced with concern. Her shock at hearing it had her head snapping up so fast that she was surprised she didn't get whiplash.

"Castle? What the hell are you doing here? What happened to the Hamptons?"

His eyes flickered to the other end of the bullpen, where Lanie, Ryan and Esposito all stood, clearly straining to hear their conversation, while trying to make it look as though they weren't. "I got ambushed."

"What?" she demanded, cringing ever so slightly at the harshness in her voice. Then she cringed at the cringe, rationalising that he deserved every piece of attitude she decided to throw at him.

He nodded slightly, his eyes flicking to the trio again. "Ryan and Esposito got me as we – uh – I was walking off the elevator."

Her eyes flicked from Castle, to her team, and back again. And understanding hit her like a bus on Broadway. Lanie's quiet, quick conversation. The footsteps. Lanie had sent the boys after him, like she thought. But not to kill him; to bring him back to her. Her heart fluttered, and reformed itself, not completely, because there was only one man that was going to be able to do that, but her poor heart was on its way.

She watched as he reached out tentatively, his pointer finger barely making contact with her pinkie. "Wanna go for a walk?" he asked softly, not quite meeting her eye.

She took a deep breath and huffed out the air so forcefully it shifted her bangs, and he could feel it across his face and hair. Her head and her heart weren't in the same place anymore, but she was damn sure she was going to get them there. She nodded slightly, her eyes falling to her desk, where their hands still sat dangerously close.

He stood and offered his hand, in no way expecting her to take it. She knew he was doing it out of etiquette and his upbringing, but she knew if she took his hand, she wouldn't want to let go. And if this walk didn't up going the way she faintly hoped, she was going to look the fool. Again. So she braced her hands on her desk and pushed her chair back slightly, standing and grabbing her jacket and bag, purely so she would have something to do with her hands.

If he was hurt by this, he didn't show it, simply jamming his hands in his pockets and turning towards the stairs that led to the precinct gym. With her jacket slung over her arm and her free hand resting loosely in her own pocket, they wandered away. Not speaking, but almost comfortable in their silence.

She could feel the eyes of Lanie and the boys on her back, and resisted the urge to turn and look back at them, to communicate her thanks with soft eyes and a nod. She was not about to thank anyone until she knew exactly what was going on.

XXX

They wandered in silence, neither voicing their destination, but both knowing exactly where they were headed. The firing range was as empty and silent as they had anticipated, most of the officers having left hours ago. She wound her way through; to the booth she usually let off steam in, and rested against the shelf, her back facing the target at the end of the range. Her jacket still rested on her arm, like a security blanket, and she played with one of the buttons absently.

"You weren't finished, were you?" he asked softly, jerking his head slightly toward the roof, indication their interrupted conversation.

She sighed and shook her head. "No. I wasn't."

"Wanna finish it now?" he asked his eyes soft and expectant.

She glanced away from him, debating with herself. "I have to ask you something, first." He nodded, and she stood up straighter, squaring her shoulders and taking a breath. She wished she had have let him enter first, and then she would be able to escape. "Are you," he hesitated and cleared her throat. "Are you getting back with Gina?"

His eyes widened slightly, clearly not anticipating the words that tumbled from her mouth. He shook his head. "No. Not in a million years. We just… we talked, the other night, and she knew I needed to be watched like a hawk, to get _Nake_- uh, the next _Nikki Heat_ book finished."

She visibly relaxed and let out a breath she didn't realised she'd held since he started talking. She smiled slightly and let her gaze drift around the booth. "This would have so much easier before. With that beer." She chuckled at the look on his face. "Sorry."

He shook his head and took a half step closer. "Do you wanna start from the beginning? Get on a roll?"

She frowned slightly and tried to remember how she had worded this earlier. Not that the actual wording really made a difference, but, he was right, she had been on a roll, and if Gina had not have walked in like she did… "Okay." She quickly ran her mind over her earlier words, and realised she didn't need to start from the beginning. She could say everything she needed and wanted to say, right now. "I was- I was going to say that, even though you annoy the absolute crap out of me ninety percent of the time, I didn't – I _don't_ – want you to leave. Not for the whole summer, and certainly not for the weekend. Not without me."

She bit her lip and levelled her gaze on him, willing him to pick up her meaning. Willing him to understand. He stared at her, a thoughtful expression on his face as he let her words roll over him and start to sink in. She knew he had understood when his eyes widened just a little bit more, and the sparkle that she had become so used to seeing when he looked at her, lit a little brighter.

"What, exactly, do you mean by that, Detective Beckett?"

She tilted her chin, so she was looking his square in the eyes and forced heart to give her head the okay to push out the words she knew he wanted to hear. To say the words she herself wanted to hear. "I want to come with you. To the Hamptons house. For the weekend."

He held his ground, eyeing her. "What about… What about the plans you already had?" he asked, the name getting stuck on his tongue.

She shook her head. "They fell through. Or, rather, I broke them up. I realised, though they were lovely plans, they weren't the plans my head and heart could agree upon."

He squinted slightly, concentrating on reading between the lines. "So, just to get this straight, you broke it off with, uh, the robbery detective, for me?"

She shrugged and nodded. "The detective and I could have been anything we wanted, Castle. I know that. But it didn't feel… right. He was like a NYPD Will, and I realised that and knew I had to change it. I was happy with him, but I wasn't _happy_." She stressed the final word, trying to get him to understand what she was still trying to wrap her head around. "And I didn't break it off with him for _you_. I broke it off with him because I had to know if what my heart was telling me was true."

"What was your heart telling you?"

She shook her head and smiled softly. "I'm still not entirely sure. But I know I'm willing to find out. If you are?"

He took another step forward, so they were standing less than a foot apart. He reached out and gently cupped her face, running his thumb over her cheek. He smiled softly as her eyes slipped shut and she tilted her head slightly, trying to feel more of him. "Kate." He breathed out, dipping his head.

He eyes flew open and found his face mere inches from hers. She could feel his breath on her face and lips and shivered slightly. They looked into each other's eyes for nearly a full minute, before her hands formed minds of their own and snaked their way up his arms and into the soft hair on the nape of his neck. She applied very little pressure, and soon his lips were caressing hers in a slow, deep kiss.

His left arm reached around her small waist and he splayed his hand across the small of her back, pushing gently to she was pressed flush against him. He felt, more than heard, the small moan that escaped her lips and felt himself harden even more. If this was happened when he simply kissed her, he couldn't wait to find out what it was like to have all of her. With great difficulty, he pulled away, resting his forehead to hers.

"What do you say to sneaking out of here?" he whispered huskily, shivering slightly at her soft touch at the back of his head.

She nodded, her green eyes dancing with delight. "I say: let's do it." She replied in a voice similar to his. She reddened slightly as the impact of her words took on their double meaning, but made no effort to move. He kissed her softly again, and reached around, taking her hand in his and linking their fingers. Her took a step back, and couldn't help but feel amazed that he had finally – _finally_ – found what he had been looking for. He lifted their joint hands and kissed hers softly, before turning and leading the way.

Forty-five minutes later, and they were cruising down the highway, heading toward the Hamptons house.

_Beauty In The Breakdown – The Scene Aesthetic_

_This is it for this particular story, but I do have some others in the works._


End file.
